Speaking of Valentines…

I’m in love with my van!

And this year, I’m choosing to love parts of my life I’ve found challenging or incongruent in the past.

One thing I’ve come to love is the sweetness of the traveling physical therapy gig I’ve been taking each winter. I’m spending this winter in eastern North Carolina, in the area known as the coastal plain.

I miss my mountains terribly. But I do love getting to know new things. And ferry rides.

How Can You Afford This?

When I was hiking the AT in 2017, one of my most-asked questions* was, “How can you afford to take six months off to hike?”

I don’t fit the usual hiker demographic…too young to be retired, too old for a gap year. Most people my age are working their careers, counting the years till retirement.

I figured out a different way that works for me and makes use of one of my college degrees. Go figure.

I work four or five months each winter as a traveling physical therapist. That gives me seven or eight months to play and to work on my own creative projects. Besides the gift of this freedom to roam, this setup has given me the gift of learning to appreciate, and even like, my day job. Let’s just say I’ve come a long way from my early PT days when I cried every morning before going to work.

Turns out, I like having an escape hatch, an end date, a contract that ends.

Van Life 101…Getting a Good Night’s Sleep

Living in a van makes my real job seem like less of a job and more of an adventure. But living in a van has its downsides, too. Some things are just harder without indoor plumbing or reliable electricity.

I love my van, though, in all its minimalist glory. I love the stealth factor of a somewhat nondescript van that looks like I might be delivering baked goods. Or auto parts.

I also love a good night’s sleep.

And access to free amenities.

That’s why I have a new favorite thing in van life…

Hospitals!

Hospitals are great resources if you’re passing through a place. Or even if you’re staying a few nights.

Here’s what they have to offer:

A safe, quiet, hassle free place to park. The trick to getting a good night’s sleep is to park somewhere where other cars are parked overnight, but where there’s not too much coming and going…no endlessly slamming doors or cars speeding past in the night. Hospital parking lots are well-lit and quiet at night. Unless you park near the helipad. That could get rowdy.

Plugs. Endless plugs in waiting rooms, in the cafeteria, in the main lobby. Charge up, people!

Free Wi-Fi, usually pretty good. Get your email on, y’all.

A microwave and/or a cafeteria with okay food that’s usually cheap. Most hospitals have salad bars, at least, if you’re craving leafy greens. Some even have Starbucks carts. You might even get lucky on a holiday and get a free turkey and dressing dinner.

Flush toilets. Enough said.

My favorite hospital parking lots are the small ones that serve more rural communities, like Lillington or New Bern or Clayton, all in North Carolina.

Whether I’m headed out for the weekend or taking a long cross country road trip, I’ll always veer off the path just far enough to find the local hospital. Never mind the sick people. I just need a good night’s sleep.

*For the record, the most-asked question on the AT was, “Do you carry a gun?” No other question came close. Silly, fearful humans we are.

Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.

— Jack Kerouac

Today is the day!

Today is the day I jump in my not-fully-converted Sprinter van and find out how to mix van life and day job.

I'm heading down to South Carolina where I have a three-month physical therapy gig. Not a bad arrangement if you still need a day job. Work a few months. Hike a few months. Repeat as needed.

Because I like living on the edge (that's where the juice is), I've decided to forego the luxury of indoor plumbing (and rent) and live in the van. So, basically camping in an urban environment.

I'm not going to lie, I'm definitely in a "feel the fear and do it anyway" situation. Not unlike when I first started my thru-hike.

Where will I sleep without being noticed or disturbed? Where will I get water, wash my dishes, shower? Will I be safe? How will I get my Netflix fix?

Here's what I know about the fear and anxiety of starting a new adventure. That they are soon enough alleviated when I fall into the rhythm of a new daily routine. And that I don't necessarily have to go alone through the fear.

The presence of fear is a sure sign you are trusting in your own strength.

— from A Course in Miracles

What if instead of going it alone, instead of trusting uniquely in my own strength, I also asked for help from the Universe? What if I lean on the Divine a little, or a lot, to ask for (and be willing to receive) whatever help I need, be it finding a safe parking place or navigating my giant van through tight spots without resorting to playing bumper cars?

I'm reminded again of my thru-hike, where one of our frequent mantras was "Ask for what you want!"

Magic happens and prayers are answered when you know what you want and you ask for it. I'm not naturally good at this, but I intend to practice and hone this skill. I intend to trust in and lean on the strength of the Divine as I start to navigate this new live-in-a-van experiment.

As you start traveling down that road of life, remember this: there are never enough comfort stops. The places you’re going are never on the map, and once you get that map out, you won’t be able to re-fold it no matter how smart you are. So forget the map, roll down the windows, and whenever you can, pull over and have a picnic.

— Jim Hensen

This is a nut and bolts post about something that's been keeping me up at night--how will I update my blog, finish my sketching courses and get my Shameless fix while I'm living in my van?

Other than blow my paycheck on table rental at Starbucks or burn through all my cell data, I mean?

Here's a preliminary list of possibilities with some other resources to try as needed.

Where to find free Wi-Fi as a Van Dweller:

Coffee shops and cafes--local joints as well as Panera Bread, Dunkin' Donuts and, of course, Starbucks. Table rental starts at about $4, but includes a latte. And unlimited bathroom breaks.

McDonalds. Table rental and charging stations are cheaper. But what you gain in economy, you sacrifice in comfort and ambiance. I'm not a fan of McDonald's, but 2017 thru-hiker Clunk was infamous for charging gadgets and sucking up McD's wifi along the trail without so much as purchasing a $1 cup of swill. Not saying it's cool. Just sayin' it's been done.

Library. Stay all day, it's free, comfy and you can catch up on reading People magazine and Rolling Stone. What's not to like? Oh, and it's usually quiet, so a good place to actually get work done if you're easily distracted by people watching.

Book Stores. Notably, Barnes & Noble. Is it wrong that I just want to use corporate facilities without shopping at them? I figure they can afford to supplement my Netflix fixes with their giant tax breaks.

Whole Foods. I know! I love stopping at Whole Foods when I'm on the road. I know what to expect from the hot bar and now they offer Wi Fi. Top Ten! Plus, some things are cheaper there even though they're known as Whole Paycheck market.

Gyms. Lots of gyms are starting to offer wifi so you can stream Pandora while logging miles on the elliptical. Some even have places you can sit and work after a workout. This will be a factor when I get to my PT job in South Carolina and I'm deciding which gym(s) to join. Cozy wi-fi, sauna, clean showers. Oh yeah, and exercise stuff. In that order.

Hospitals. Hospitals freak me out; there are sick people in there! But there's also decent food (usually), wi-fi (increasingly) and opportunities for hassle free stealth parking. I've even seen Starbucks set up on hospital campuses, so it may be worth the risk of hob-nobbing with all those infectious peeps.

More Resources

This article at Life Hacker has lots of links to apps that help you find hotspots. Comments were helpful, too. Example: the great state of Texas offers free WiFi at all of its rest areas. And rattlesnakes.

Smile at your critics for they have yet to see the universe that exists outside the box.

— Paul Bradley Smith

In two weeks I leave for a new physical therapy job in South Carolina. I plan to live in my van while I’m there, stealth park around town and join the YMCA for both workout and hygiene purposes.

Life as an under-the-radar van dweller, yay! Though I’m a little nervous about it, too, in the same way I was nervous before I started my Appalachian Trail hike.

Because I’m not exactly sure what I’m getting myself into.

Discomfort makes me happy

I just know I’m happiest when I dwell in the discomfort of trying new things. Living on the other side of normal gives me a charge.

So living in my van for a few months will be a new kind of uncomfortable adventure. My van isn’t a cushy Winnebago with all the mod cons. It’s super-minimalist at the moment and will stay that way for a while because I won’t have time to do all the upgrades I envision until next summer.

(If you want to see a tour, I posted a video on Youtube. I'm new to making videos. Don't judge the random shots of the neighbor's yard. I'm cool with imperfection.)

I’ll be living without running water or refrigeration for a few months. Parking somewhere different every night with fingers crossed I don’t get busted and asked to move.

I wake up at night worrying about how I’ll manage the stealth parking and the personal care without running water and do it while still keeping up with a job and my blog and my sketching habit.

Will I have more freedom or less to juggle my passions while I’m essentially on a prolonged urban camping trip. (That sounds like "homeless," doesn't it?) Where will I spit out my toothpaste or empty my chamber pot? Where do I empty the cooler when the ice melts? Where do I fill up my five-gallon water jug?

I don’t know, yet, but I know from my hiking experience that I’ll figure it all out, that there will always be something new to learn and that everything will work out for the best.

It always works out for the best.

Magic happens, I’ve learned, when you’re doing the thing that gives you that unmistakeable charge, the jolt that lets you know you’re in exactly the right place no matter how crazy it may look to anyone else.

And no matter how crazy it looks even to me.

Stay tuned for details and possible hilarity. I'll be posting on YouTube more and I'd love it if you subscribed to the Ruby Throat Journal channel. Fingers crossed I get better at the videography.

Today we welcomed a new addition to the family...Vinnie Van Go, a 2014 Sprinter Van that promises to be a cozy base camp for more awesome adventures.

This wasn't the van we thought we'd end up with, but it was love at first drive when we looked at her Tuesday.

The old owner had done some of the work that I wasn't super excited about doing myself...insulation, rooftop fans. And it came with a workman's package that included LED lighting in the back, an extra 12 volt plug in the back and an extra "leisure" battery that runs the fans, lights and that 12 volt plug in the back. We can charge phones without running the starting battery down.

This is a plus for me while I try to figure out what other things we'll need to plug in (fridge, heater, water pump) and how to make electricity happen in the living space.

And the former owner did a minimalist set up inside with a platform bed, some Ikea cabinets along the top and a kitchen set up.

Did I mention it's super minimalist right now? No running water or heat or fridge or cook top. Which is perfect really. Because It's functional. But it doesn't have anyone else's imprint on it so it will be amenable to making it mine.

The camper known as "Trashy" at the Rock & Sole Hostel in Pennsylvania.

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.

— Robert Louis Stevenson

RV dream #1: Chinook

When I was fourteen or so, and driving was on the horizon, I developed an intense desire for a Chinook camper thingy. It was love at first sight.

A tiny RV on a Toyota chassis seemed like the perfect complement to my budding desire to see the country, one national park at a time. I sent off for the brochure (my first vision board!), which I held onto for years, and every time I saw one on the road, I would shout, “Chinook!” I’m sure that amused my parents endlessly.

RV Dream #2: Maude, the Hipster Upgrade

I opted for the hipster upgrade to my dream along the way. It morphed into an intense desire for a VW camper van. I found my dream van and bought it in my late twenties—a 1978 VW camper with a pop-up top, a spare tire on the front and plaid upholstery.

I called her Maude. I loved her. And she broke my heart.

Maude was notorious for getting me to a destination but refusing to take me home.

Hmmmm….in retrospect, maybe she was trying to tell me something. I do remember wanting desperately to run away from that place at that time. That Maude was a genius in pop-up campervan form.

She made friends easily, too. I loved how, whenever I met another VW campervan on the road, the driver would stick a thumbs up out the window to acknowledge the shared experience of driving a sputtering van running on three cylinders at most, getting there at a top "speed" of 50mph.

Sadly, Maude had to be re-homed not so very long after we met. I popped her top for the last time at Blakeley State Park in lower Alabama then bid her “Adieu!” with a tear in my eye. In spite of her flaws, she’d been a keeper and I let her go.

The dream just won't die

But I never let go of the dream of a small motor home. Preferably one that doesn’t require a tow truck every time we go out. I still go to RV shows for entertainment. And send off for brochures. And spend an inordinate amount of time online perusing Craigslist and watching NSFW Winnebago Man.

What’s stopped me from taking the plunge is not being clear on what we need. My husband and I have had trouble making this work for both of us.

I just want a little home on wheels, simple, with curtains and throw pillows. A place I’d want hang out even if it were parked in the driveway.

My husband, Ralph, is way more practical than me. He wants to be able to haul sheetrock and 2x4s.

How will practical Ralph and fanciful Roo make this work?

Ralph wanted a slide-in camper and a truck. But, slide-in camper? Ewwwww, no. I’m pretty sure they all come with camouflaged upholstery and gun racks and I don’t want to drive a truck. So, not just no, but Hell No!

For a while I was obsessed withScamp trailers. So cute! I’d get a Honda Pilot to tow it and then start an Instagram feed called Pilot & Scamp. But who wants to schlepp a trailer around to stealth campsites at the end of dirt roads in remote wilderness areas?

We camped once in just such a spot on the north rim of the Grand Canyon. It was not a place amenable to trailers.

It needs to be nimble.

Also, it needs to be simple...

I’ve looked at actual RVs. Winnebagos with slides and switches and bathrooms and not just one, but several TVs. They’re so complicated. All those knobs and panels and blinking lights just scream, “This shit’s gonna break! A lot!”

And why do they all have white leather upholstery? White doesn’t work for camping! Or dogs!

Factory RVs are never quite right and they’re over the top with features. Seriously, who needs even one TV much less two or three?

Also, the smallest ones cost more than what I paid for my first house. And the second house, too, for that matter. I can't justify that when I suspect it will break often.

The Criteria

Ralph and I have been pondering this dilemma for years and at last, we’ve found the solution! It meets the following criteria:

It’s nimble.

It’s simple.

It can haul building supplies in small quantities.

It’s dog friendly.

It's easy to drive.

It's customizable.

It's under the radar (stealthy), not over the top.

A Perfect Solution

It’s a perfect solution for stealth camping at trailheads. For acting as base camp to backpacking adventures and a home away from home on road trips to California, New Hampshire, Alaska.

It will go to remote places, like back to that stealth spot on the edge of the Grand Canyon.

Or to the base of the Enchantments.

Or in a campground overrun with moose somewhere close to the Canadian border.

Or in the Walmart parking lot, on the way to somewhere magical.

We’re close to sealing the deal and I expect we’ll have our perfect vehicle by the end of the year.

Tomorrow I’ll share the solution we came up with to meet our different needs and how we’re approaching the next level of decision making and making the dream come true.

Lucky me…I’ll get to exercise my creative impulses to make it truly perfect for Ralph, me, the traveling parrots and a puppy.

It's a mixed bag this week--creativity, long distance hiking, celebrating a multi-passionate life. Here are the things that caught my eye. Enjoy.

ONE

I always wanted to start this habit of making art. Sketching seemed like the most accessible, but I had a hard time getting it off the ground, mostly because I never knew what to draw. I had some idea that "real" art had to make a grand statement, change the world, shatter the earth.

Screw that!

I find the artists I love following the most are the ones who just capture their lives on a day to day basis. And now that I've adopted that, sketch journaling, as a strategy, I find I LOVE looking back through my sketchbook.

TWO

I stopped by Uncle Johnny's Hostel in Erwin, Tennessee. (What a great vibe, there! Too bad it was early and I had to hike on.) I chatted with Gary about hammocking, about how I loved the idea, but never could get the weight down enough for it to make sense for me.

He told me about this thing--The Khione hammock sleeve. It's a tarp, bug net and underquilt in one, so, at 30 ounces, it shaves off quite a bit of weight. The price is reasonable ($149), so there's no reason not to give it a try.

Stay tuned for a review.

BTW, Khione pronounced Key-o-nee, but Gary insisted on calling it the Cojones. Still LMAO about that.

THREE

They Draw and Cook, OMG! Three cheers for embracing a multi-passionate life and combining two random things into one great idea, a website collecting illustrated recipes from artists who are passionate about food.

FOUR

Handprint. This site is pretty whack overall. The guy, Bruce MacEvoy, is a renaissance man and, I imagine, somewhat obsessive, exploring lots of random topics, so explore his site at your own risk, knowing you might get sucked into the undertow of the internet. (It strikes me that this is another example this week of a person celebrating his multi-passionate life. Right on!)

The link, though, takes you to his exploration of painting with watercolors. I particularly appreciate the section on building a basic palette, where he (rightly) asserts:

"The beginner's mistake is always ... too many paints. Too many paints! Color is a seductive experience, and it's easy for a beginning painter to get pulled into an orgy of paint purchases."

FIVE

Van Dog Traveller. He quit his job, built out a van and travels Europe...be still my beating heart. Plus, he's got an eye for photography, so his posts are inspirational on several levels. I just loved this collection of photos from Berlin.

What have you found interesting this week? Leave a comment and turn us on to something whack.

I'm ever inspired by Austin Kleon and look forward to his weekly newsletter, a list of ten things that piqued his interest during the week and that he thought worth sharing.

Here's my own list of five from this past week, starting with Austin himself.

1. I'm challenging myself to blog every day and to sketch every day. For a year. Which may be a chunk of time too large to wrap my brain around.

A month feels like a more manageable chunk, so I downloaded Austin Kleon's printable 30-Day Challenge PDF. It's just a calendar on which you get to make a giant Sharpie X each day you complete the thing you want to do. Watching the X's accumulate is almost as orgasmic as watching the actual work accumulate.

2. As I close in on filling my first sketchbook (Woo Hoo!), I realized I'd need a way to organize the collection. That's when this post from Liz Steel dropped into my world. Serendipity! And a good way to get your own journal collection organized.

It works for word journals, art journals, sketch journals, trail logs, notebook collections of all duties.

3. Since I've challenged myself to sketch every day, I've also committed to learning what I can about mastering the media--pen, ink, watercolor, grisaille, design. Here's a list of Craftsy classes that have helped me improve my drawing by giving me techniques to work on. (Because the only way to really improve is to do the work, which comes up in the post.)

Also, go there to see some bad art. My bad art. I'm not so proud of the sketches. But I am proud of the attempt.

4. A case for Hiking More and Driving Less. There are so many good reasons to get up and walk, day after day. Perhaps this could be a monthly challenge? To hike every day.

5. I'm turning into an Instagram snob. I mostly don't want to see pictures of cats, cheeseburgers or endless selfies. Unless there's a really good reason. Like, you're Jamie Oliver or the Humane Society.

There's an art to curating a compelling Instagram feed and it starts not with what you want to show, but with what your audience wants to see.

A friend shared her feed with me this week from life on the road in their motor home, @yukonandbean. I think they're worth following because they're doing the work of tailoring their feed to an audience that's interested in life on the road.

I put up with the cat pictures because it's a cat on the road in an RV. It's part of the experience.

Three Things I Wanted

Last week I was thrilled to get an email from an acquaintance I met several years ago. (Hi, Bean!)

She was my hero when I met her because she was downsizing, living with her husband in a camper and plotting escape to life on the road. In a camper. With pets. She’s doing it now and blogging about it at yukonandbean.com.

A total inspiration.

She was surprised at the twists and turns my life has taken over the years, so here’s what I wrote back to her:

“Hitting the road was always something I wanted to do.

As a kid I wanted three things—1) a Chinook camper (I sent for the brochure when I was ten and kept that brochure through high school) so I could take epic road trips; 2) an art studio in my backyard, if I ever settled down; and 3) mountains all around.

So I wouldn’t say I actually did a 180 turn. It’s more like I recognized myself and started embracing what's important to the real me.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail was just an accessible way to start honoring my nomadic tendencies!”

Base Camp on Wheels

Now, my husband and I are shopping for a van to convert into a minimalist RV, the key word being "minimalist." I'm not so interested in road trips, per se. My dream has evolved because I prefer walking now over driving. The "epic road trip" is a means to an end, a way to get to the trail head for the "epic saunter."

So all we need is a van with a bed and a stove, solar panels on the roof and a place to store loaded backpacks, my tiny sketching kit and dog paraphernalia. It’s a base camp on wheels.

Because the idea now is to hike more, drive less.

Hike more, drive less. It's good in so many ways.

This long distance hiking thing is, by the way, an idea more women should embrace. All women, really. Of all ages, but especially older women who've spent their lives looking at brochures without ever taking the actual plunge into their dream.

Long distance hiking changes lives in the most positive ways and in ways that driving around never will. It opens the doors to all sorts of dreams and gives you to confidence to pursue them.

I mean, if I can do this, what else might I be able to do?

We'll get back to the connection between hiking and dreaming in good time, but for now, let me just make a quick case for walking more and driving less.

A Case for Walking More

1. It's gentler on our planet. And our glorious planet needs all the help it can get right now.

2. It increases my connection to the planet. One way to care about said glorious planet is to get to know it better. I may cover less ground while walking, but I cover it mindfully. Slowing down helps open my eyes to the tiniest units of beauty, like the new type of salamander I "discovered" outside my tent one evening in Tennessee. Or the owl that discovered me one night on Max Patch, hovering over my head for a few seconds before disappearing into the starry night.

Slowing down to two miles/hour expands my capacity to wonder about the world around me and to love it even more deeply. Have you seen the way the rocks glitter in Maine? Did you know that lichens bloom? Glorious!

3. It's better for my body. Humans were made to move. A lot more than I was moving before I thru-hiked. The daily practice of walking ten to fifteen miles a day makes me feel alive and strong and healthier than I've ever felt. Did you see my hiker quads? Seriously bad ass!

A Mahoosuc Notch moment. Dang, that was fun!

4. It nourishes more than my body. It "works" on my emotional, mental and soul levels, too. I don't listen to podcasts or music much while I hike. And I hike alone a lot of the time, too, with the intention of solving a problem or knowing myself more deeply, addressing a fear or practicing radical forgiveness.

The key is setting intentions for your walk and being open to what comes.

Because something always comes during the rhythmic, hypnotic action of walking, breathing, being alone in nature.

Have I missed anything? What does hiking do for you that driving doesn't quite manage? Or what do you get out of driving that hiking doesn't deliver? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts...I'm really curious.